Monday, November 23, 2015

My poor ailing mother spent the morning hunched over the stove making pots of her famous chili for later, then excused herself to get dressed in her bedroom. A repairman shows up a little later and starts marveling at the smell -- "If you need a professional taste-tester I am available!" he beams -- to which my stepfather replies:

"Well, it's not gonna be ready for a few hours, but if you are hungry for chili there's a Wendy's nearby."

"Yeah, but that never tastes as good as homemade," the repairman counters, still smiling from the olfactory sensation.

"Well, I don't know," Gary sighs. "It's pretty close and it's a lot less hassle."